


The Gladiators

by TriadicUniverse



Series: Gilded Cage [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Ecto-incest, F/F, F/M, Incest, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Specific warnings in the notes, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriadicUniverse/pseuds/TriadicUniverse
Summary: Dave and Dirk Strider have survived this long because of each other, but when the Empress herself decides that Dave would make a better bedwarmer than a bloodletter, will they be able to live apart? It seems this choice, like all others, has already been made for them.





	1. What Will I Do Without You?

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags! This is an extremely self-indulgent AU, and I'm having a great time writing it. The mood of this story is candy coating over a foundation of very dark themes. If you like your slave AUs with sugarcoating, enjoyable porn, and heavy-handed hints at something much darker just beneath the surface, than this is the slave AU for you!
> 
> All chapters contain sexual slavery, non/dub-con, Stockholm syndrome, and canon-typical violence.
> 
> Art at: triadicuniverse.tumblr.com/tagged/gilded-cage/chrono

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Her Imperious Condescension swiped her finger across the screen, replacing the video with a still image of the aliens from the arena. They were troll-shaped, but much smaller, and colorful, with soft skin and no horns. Like most seadwellers, the Condesce was familiar with the species. They were clever and stubborn, to be sure, but most were not nearly so deadly. These two, despite the deficiencies of their species, looked like the warriors they were. Their expressions were grim, and any skin that showed was covered in scars. Their eyes were shaded, hiding any sign of fear or apprehension."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of sibling incest, and explicit incest between characters who are related in canon but unrelated in this AU.

The pair of aliens on the viewscreen moved with blinding speed, enough that they were little more than digital blurs flitting around their opponent. The opponent in question was a disgraced blueblood, sentenced to the gladiatorial arena. Normally, he would have been a crowd favorite, able to earn back some semblance of dignity as his enemies were slain, but no one expected a pair of tiny alien slaves to be so dangerous. As they moved, their blades carved bleeding blue lines into the troll’s flesh until he finally collapsed. At that point, the more deadly of the pair raised its weapon and brought it down in a clean strike, cleaving the blueblood’s head from his shoulders.

Her Imperious Condescension swiped her finger across the screen, replacing the video with a still image of the aliens from the arena. They were troll-shaped, but much smaller, and colorful, with soft skin and no horns. Like most seadwellers, the Condesce was familiar with the species. They were clever and stubborn, to be sure, but most were not nearly so deadly. These two, despite the deficiencies of their species, looked like the warriors they were. Their expressions were grim, and any skin that showed was covered in scars. Their eyes were shaded, hiding any sign of fear or apprehension.

The Condesce was fascinated by their combat prowess, but she was far more interested in their beauty. And they were beautiful, with handsome faces, fair, silky hair, and bright eyes. They belonged chained to a coupling platform, not the arena, except that one of them had a jagged scar across his otherwise lovely face.

Another swipe, and the Condesce was looking at a file detailing their history. Like most of their species, they had been raised by a breeder until nine sweeps, then sold. At eleven sweeps, they had been gladiators for two, much longer than anyone had expected them to survive.

Humans were supposed to be pets, not warriors. This was something that any sensible troll understood. Small and soft, without any natural weapons, a human was good for keeping one’s recuperacoon warm and not much else. Twenty five sweeps ago they had been vicious and indomitable, fighting desperately for the remnants of their civilization, but they had inevitably lost, and by now the aggression had been trained out of them.

These two might be relatively untrained as pets, but that could be quickly corrected. They had grown quite prestigious in the ring, and they were certainly pretty enough for the Empress’s harem. Well, one of them was. The Condesce scrolled to an ad featuring the two of them, back-to-back, posing with their swords, sexy and dangerous in sleek black bodysuits. Their faces were identical, save for the scar that carved from one human’s chin to the bridge of his nose.

It was a shame, but the Condesce wasn’t too broken up over it. One would be enough for her.

“What do you think?” she said, tapping her bejeweled claw against Dave Strider’s image.

“He’s a looker, that’s for sure!” said the human in her lap, her pride and joy, a perfect pet princess for Alternia’s Empress. Jane Crocker studied both boys appraisingly, her eyes lingering on the way their bodysuits hugged their asses and the muscles in their arms and chests. She liked what she saw, and she had a feeling they’d be even more striking in person. “Are you going to get him?”

“I think I gotta,” the Condesce said.”Look at that cute li’l face, tight li’l ass. I want him on my platform yesternight. Shame about the otter one’s face, but I don’t need two.”

The humans’ master, sitting across from the Empress, frowned, a barely-perceptible tightening of his mouth. “They’re a matching set,” he said. “They should be bought together.”

The Condesce curled her lips into a snarl. “Don’t you tell me water to do, dam! If ya wanted to sail them both, ya shouldn’t have let Dirk’s face get fucked up! I’m taken one a ya li’l blond beaches, and the otter one can die in the ring for all I care.” She tapped a claw against the tablet with almost enough force to crack the glass, transferring the amount of credits that she decided that Dave was worth, and that was that. His former master didn’t dare argue, and if he did, she’d mount his head on her 2x3dent.

When the time came to meet the newest addition to the royal harem, Dave and Dirk were bathed and dressed up in swanky charcoal suits, the height of human fashion. This in itself was not unusual. Their master was a seadweller, and they had become quite famous among fans of the arena. It wasn’t unheard of for them to be shown off before other highbloods. It was also not unusual for their master to fasten a gag between Dave’s teeth, then hook a slim chain leash to his collar and lead him away. The brothers locked eyes, upset, but not enough to put up a fuss. Dave resigned himself to being lent to an unfamiliar highblood for the day, but he took comfort in the belief that he would see his brother again the next night.

What was unusual was for Dave to be led before the Empress herself, lounging on a makeshift throne at the center of the hall. She was larger than life, taller even than his current master, decked out in gold and pearls and bright pink, a color reserved only for the highest royalty and their pets. Dave could be forgiven for being in awe and a bit nervous at the sight of her. His eyes widened imperceptibly behind his shades, and with a nudge from his master, he lowered himself to one knee.

The Empress clapped her hands together. On her face was a delighted, sharp-toothed smile. “He’s perfect!” she said. “I wanna eat ‘im up.” Dave desperately hoped she didn’t mean that literally.

She bent down, cupping his chin in one hand, tilting his head to one side, then the other. He didn’t resist; he might not have been a fancy housepet, but he knew enough to hold still and let a seadweller do as she pleased. He’d once thought that his master was dangerous, but that was nothing compared to Her Imperious Condescension and her legendary temper. If she decided to ‘krill’ him now, no one but the cleaning crew would object, and they would be sure to object quietly. Dave was used to staring death in the face, but at the moment his survival depended on his ability to be cute and pliant in the claws of a troll who could swat him like a fly.

He shouldn’t have worried so much. The Condesce was overjoyed by what she saw. She had seen some lovely pets in her long life, but Dave ranked among the best of them. Leashed and gagged, he looked like the passive fucktoy he was about to become, and although he was a brilliant warrior, he did nothing to fight back.

The Condesce snapped her fingers, and a burly purpleblood stepped out from the shadows. Dave’s former master handed over his leash, and that was when Dave began to feel a touch of alarm. The Empress didn’t seem to be the type to borrow a pet. Although he knew better than to take his attention off of her, he couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder, searching for Dirk. The henchtroll took that opportunity to snap Dave’s wrists into a sturdy pair of handcuffs, anticipating the fit he was bound to throw when he realized what was in store.

The reality of his situation was setting in fast, and Dave didn’t like where this was headed. He leaped to his feet, ready to make a break for it. He was faster than any of them, he was sure of it. He could find Dirk and… something. He didn’t need to think it all the way through. He would roll with his instincts, and Dirk would fill in the details. The thought was a comforting distraction from the knowledge that he was openly defying Her Condescension, an excellent way to earn a painful death.

The Condesce yanked on his leash, and Dave was forced off balance. Something in his neck cracked, just enough to be painful. He stumbled, his head spinning, and the henchtroll grabbed his arms, lifting him off the ground. Dave thrashed and kicked, but his skill in the ring could do nothing against the raw strength of a highblood in close quarters. Even still, he wasn’t allowed to struggle for very long. The Condesce rose out of her seat, closing a hand around Dave’s throat. The slightest squeeze was enough of a reminder of Dave’s situation that he stilled, his face splotchy red. His expression remained impassive, save for the crease between his eyebrows that betrayed his distress.

“Settle ya sweet ass down,” the Empress said. Dave struggled to breathe, although her grip wasn’t tight enough to choke. When his struggles ceased, she smiled, releasing his throat in order to stroke through his hair. “That’s betta. Sea? Ya got nofin to worry about, so long as you’re good for me.”

Dave had plenty to worry about, in his humble opinion. At the forefront of his mind was Dirk. Would he see his brother again? Would Dirk ever know where he had gone? The Empress’s claws in his hair were distracting, but not distracting enough. Dave twisted around, searching for Dirk, but he could see nothing beyond the bulk of the henchtroll behind him. Dirk would return to their shared quarters that day, alone, but unaware of any trouble until Dave was not returned to him the next night.

Since he was untrained and couldn’t be trusted not to flee, Dave was thrown over the henchtroll’s shoulder. A crowd had gathered, watching the spectacle unfold, but there was no sign of the one person Dave wanted to see.

 

The shuttle ride to the palace was long and terse, with Dave as aloof and sullen as he could be while handcuffed and cradled in his mistress’s lap. She was reluctant to let go of him, now that she had gotten her claws on him. “Dontcha worry, sweet fin,” she said, rubbing his back with a hand large enough to pick him up like a kitten. “I know, it’s hard when ya haven’t been trained properly. Ya get all hooked on your human bonding instincts, ya can’t let go an’ let your mistress take care a’ ya. Don’t fuss, I’ll fix that for ya, you’ll wonder why you was ever so clam upset.”

Dave wouldn’t respond, even if not for the gag in his mouth. His shades were hooked in her neckline, so she could see the cold anger in his eyes. He avoided her gaze, staring resolutely at the view screen projecting the millions of stars they raced by.

Hours later, the shuttle eased to a stop in the hangar of the Imperial Flagship. Dave was relieved as the Condesce nudged him off her lap, but he couldn’t go far. She held the end of his leash in a grip strong as any chain, and there was nowhere for Dave to go. The thought of running flitted across his mind, but even he knew that doing so would only make his life more painful. Dirk was millions of miles away on the moon that Dave had once called home, and would now serve as his brother’s grave.

For the first time, Dave realized that Dirk would be going into the ring without him, and the fear and dread that welled up in him was nearly enough to make him keel over. He stopped mid-step, his face ashen and hands shaking. The Condesce peered back over her shoulder, her mouth twisted in annoyance, but Dave paid her no mind. For two sweeps they had survived because they were fast and clever, and because they had each other. Dave no longer had Dirk to care for him when the pains of slavery weighed on him. Dirk no longer had Dave to watch his back.

The Condesce yanked on Dave’s leash. She was starting to give poor Dave a horrible pain in his neck, but that was the least of his worries. He dug his heels in, balled his hands into fists, met his mistress’s gaze with narrowed eyes. She bared her teeth and tightened her grip on the leash. “Sea, this shit?,” she said, a thinly-veiled warning. “This has gotta stop.”

It was not the first down Dave had stared down an opponent that much larger than himself. He was bound and unarmed, but feeling stupid and desperate enough to try. He lunged with blinding speed, but never got more than a few steps. The Condesce put a hand to her temple, and wicked pressure filled Dave’s mind. He felt like a husktop being shut down by someone holding down the off button, and that was his last thought before he passed out.

 

Her Imperious Condescension carried her sleeping pet to the royal harem. He was adorable when he was too unconscious to defy her, but if she tilted her thoughts turnways she almost sympathized with him. Almost. At the very least, she would be patient while she addressed the deficiencies in his training, but that didn’t mean she would be soft on him. She liked to spoil pets when they deserved it, but until then he would need a firm guiding hand showing him the right way. It also never hurt to surround him with examples of good behavior.

The royal harem was a massive suite, larger even her bedchambers, if only to accommodate the number of companions and slaves the Empress was entitled to. There were trolls all across the spectrum, from lowblood slaves to highbloods revered for their close position to the Queen, even a pair of young seadwellers apprenticing under her before they joined the imperial fleet. And of course she had a pair of humans, two beautiful ladies picked out at an early age and raised in luxury specifically for the Queen’s harem. Jane Crocker was the Condesce’s current favorite, a princess among slaves, but Roxy Lalonde was a very close second. They were there to meet her as she strolled into the main room of the harem, a large room with a cushioned floor and a viewscreen showing a hyper-realistic video of the sea just before sunrise.

The Empress’s pets nearly tripped over themselves trying to welcome back their mistress, as well as get a look at their new playmate. Grinning indulgently, the Condesce clutched Dave to her chest and bent down to plant kisses on Jane’s cheeks, then Roxy’s. With pink lipstick smears on their faces, the two of them sat down, and the Condesce laid Dave out on the cushions. He was limp and pliant in his sleep, his expression peaceful. “Whaddya think?” he said. “Is he everyfin you hoped for?”

Roxy’s delighted squeal said it all. “He is SO fuckin’ presh. Look at his face! And that suit! It’s gonna be like unwrappin’ a present. Wake ‘im up, Mistress, I wanna get started.”

“Why is he asleep, Mistress?” Jane said. “It wasn’t that long of a shuttle ride.” Looking at his cuffed hands, she already had an idea.

“Buoy’s got a bit of an attitude,” the Condesce said. “Doesn’t realize he ain’t in the ring anemonemore. Doesn’t realize that out here, I always win.”

Roxy made a disappointed sound, even as she toyed with Dave’s hair. It was fine and curly, not unlike her own. Jane tucked herself up against her Mistress’s side, and the Empress slipped her arms around Jane’s waist. “You’ll whip him into shape in no time,” Jane said, earning a smile. “And if you want any help, it’ll be my pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Atta gill,” said the Condesce. Jane giggled as another kiss was planted on her cheek.

 

Dave was going to be whipped into shape one way or another, and that was meant to be taken literally. The girls helped with the first stage, stripping him out of his suit and cooing over the toned, scarred body they found beneath it. The Empress enjoyed the show as well, but of course they were only getting started. She chained his hands high above his head, fastening them to a pole in the center of the room. Meanwhile, Roxy went to go fetch another slave. If the Condesce did the whipping, Dave would not survive. Besides, why did she need to get her hands dirty?

Dave woke to find himself naked and bound, hanging from his wrists in a dimly-lit room. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast a sultry glow over his Mistress’s face as she grinned at him, baring row after row of razor-sharp teeth. There were two human girls cuddled up on her either side, and in any other situation, Dave would be pleased to see them. Humans were a rare sight in the arena, except as bait to give monsters a taste for blood, but these were clearly pampered pets, dressed in skimpy clothes that accentuated their curves and showed off more than they hid. They were looking at him like they wanted to eat him up, and normally, Dave would be down for that. Now, all he could think of was his brother.

There was someone else in the room; a troll, much smaller than the Empress, with blunt horns and a sour disposition. Dave guessed that he was a lowblood, and he, like the humans, wore a collar with the Empress’s sign. Dave would be wearing one of those collars soon, and although it looked more comfortable than his own, he wanted nothing to do with it. The troll held a leather flogger, making it clear just what was in store. Dave took a deep breath, then glared, unafraid, at his new mistress.

“Rise and shine,” the Condesce said. “It’s time to answer for ya li’l outburst. I’m doin’ you a favor, ya know. I know you ain’t been trained right, so I’m gonna fix that for ya instead a’ turnin’ you into nail polish. That starts… now!”

Belatedly, Dave realized that he was no longer gagged. “You could just sell me back,” he said. “Leave me to die in the ring, wouldn’t that be appropriate? You know, since I was so goddamn rude and all.” He’d do anything for that outcome, although he didn’t expect Her Imperious Condescension to do him any kind of favor.

“Nah,” she said, to no one’s surprise. “I’ve seen ya fight, you’re too feisty to die that easy. Besides, a corpse ain’t nearly as cute. No, you can just sit tight and take ya punishment like a good buoy. If I’m impressed, my gills here’ll give you a reward.”

The blonde on the left blew Dave a kiss, and he swallowed thickly. That sounded wonderful, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Turn around,” the troll said. His voice was gruff, brooking no nonsense. Dave ignored him.

“You know what you need?” he said without missing a beat. “You need another pet. Don’t you want the full set? You like my ass, right? Dirk has a cute ass too. We look exactly the fuckin’ same. He’s a better pet than me anyhow. Picks up manners faster. I could never keep my mouth shut, but Dirk’s quiet. You’d like him better than me. Want us to do the twin thing? Trolls love the twin thing. You can’t see the scar if we’re makin’ out, puttin’ on a show, you’d just love it.”

“Hmm…” The Condesce pretended to consider it for a moment. Dave’s heart leaped into his throat, then plummeted as she said, “Nah.”

“Fuck you!” Dave said, entirely without thinking. The troll grabbed Dave’s shoulder in a rough grip and spun him around. Dave craned his head around to glare at the Condesce, and kept talking. “Fuck you fuck you I hate you so goddamn much…”

“Gag ‘im,” she said, fetching Dave’s gag from her sylladex and tossing it to the troll slave. He snatched it out of the air and held it up to Dave’s face. Dave clamped his mouth shut, his jaw clenched and a gleam in his eye.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the troll said. “You’re either an idiot or a masochist, and I don’t have the patience for either. Open up before Mistress gets creative. You don’t want her to get creative.”

Dave had stared down trolls three times his size and aliens much larger than that, creatures that considered him little more than a tasty morsel. He locked eyes with the troll and gritted his teeth, unintimidated by him or the flogger in his hand. As time passed, he was growing less afraid of even the Empress, but he had a feeling she could change that the moment she put her mind to it.

“Karkat,” she said, a warning edge to her voice. Karkat frowned and raised the flogger.

Dave was no stranger to pain, as evidenced by the scars that laced his naked body. There were already three in parallel across his back, carved by the claws of an alien taken from another conquered planet. There was a deep gash across his arms from where his sword had been knocked from his grasp, and he had to raise his hands to fend off a killing blow. The wounds had marred him, but he survived, and he would survive anything Her Imperious Condescension threw at him. As the flogger struck his back, he was sure that he was right. The pain was sharp, but not enough to make Dave flinch. He clenched his hands into fists, evened out his expression, and prepared to weather his punishment the way he had weathered battle after battle in the arena.

That wasn’t to say it was easy. Karkat wasn’t holding back. He threw himself into every strike, determined to make Dave scream. But Dave wasn’t playing along; in fact, his expression rarely shifted. Even as angry red lines were raised across his back, Dave didn’t let out so much as a whimper. Karkat seemed to grow frustrated, increasing the force of his strikes until he was worried that he might tear Dave’s skin. If he damaged the Condesce’s brand new pet, there would be hell to pay, attitude or no.

Finally, Karkat stopped, turning to give his mistress an entreating look. “This isn’t working,” he said, louder than he intended. Unlike Dave’s, she didn’t seem to find his attitude offensive. Jane sat up, whispering in the Condesce’s ear. She smirked, locked eyes with Karkat, gestured a bit lower. Karkat, although not normally a sadist, was growing frustrated with Dave’s unbreakable facade, and a grin spread across his face as he realized what she had in mind.

Just as Dave turned his head to see what was going on, Karkat cracked the flogger across his ass. This time, he got a response. Dave’s body jerked and tensed, rising up on his tiptoes. He still didn’t whimper, but Karkat was determined to change that.

The blows rained down on Dave’s ass and the back of his thighs, snapping against the sensitive skin until Dave had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Karkat didn’t hold back, either, taking to the beating with renewed enthusiasm. He would always work to please his mistress, but he was starting to take a more personal interest in this punishment. It was at the edge of what Dave could handle, and he was starting to show it, squirming in place as if he could avoid the next strike. But there was nowhere for him to go, nothing for him to put on a show for the Empress and her toys as they watched the way he strained against his bonds, muscles tensing and shifting under his reddening skin.

Dave twisted his head around to fix Karkat with a fierce glare; instead he caught a glimpse of the eager light in the troll’s eyes, the way his eyebrows creased in concentration, the smile tugging at his lips. The flogger struck him again, and finally a sound escaped him. It was a groan, low and filthy, and it made Dave’s face flush and Karkat’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

That wasn’t the result Her Condescension had hoped for, but she wasn’t about to complain. “Oh fuck,” Roxy moaned under her breath, and the Empress simply had to agree. Karkat paused, his face turning a color that was rarely seen on trolls, and that wouldn’t do. “Keep going, babycakes,” she said. Karkat did just that.

The moments stretched like taffy as Dave’s punishment dragged on, although it remained to be seen if this could be considered any sort of punishment. The pain was not enough to phase him, but it was enough to make him gasp and jerk against his restraints as Karkat laid into his sore ass. He shifted from foot to foot, his body tense and shaking, his skin flushed strawberry-red from his chest to the tips of his ears. That was not to mention the welts being raised on his ass and thighs, colorful enough that everyone in the room knew that Dave would be sitting gingerly for a week. His body ached, his shoulders strained from their skyward position, his legs shaking as he was forced to stand on his tiptoes, the skin from his knees to his upper back burning. He didn’t try to turn around anymore, lest his audience see just how hard his cock was. He couldn’t hide his moans, despite his best efforts; they spilled from his lips, driven out of him by the crack of the flogger against his burning skin.

“That’s enough,” the Condesce finally said. Karkat stopped mid-swing. Dave gasped for breath, his body trembling. His head lolled back over his shoulder to give Karkat a heated glare, but it was undercut by the way his eyes were blown wide with lust and his face was flushed with desire. Embarrassment and arousal was plain on Karkat’s face; Dave was taken aback by the brightly-colored blush on his cheeks.

“Do you still want me to gag him, Mistress?” Karkat said, stumbling somewhat over his words.

The Condesce thought for a moment, then said, “Shore, go ahead.”

Karkat captchalogued the flogger, then held the gag up to Dave’s lips. There was a long, terse moment before Dave obediently opened his mouth, and Karkat fastened the gag in place. The bright red ball framed his lips and accentuated the rosy flush that was creeping down over his chest, as well as the mottled welts across his back side.

“Good buoy,” the Condesce purred. “You took your punfishment, and now I think you’ve earned a reefward.” Roxy brightened, pointing at herself hopefully. Her mistress nodded, and she scrambled to her feet with a sunny grin. Dave knew, then, that he was so very fucked.

“Turn him around!” Jane said. “We want to see, too.” Karkat obliged, planting his hands on Dave’s shoulders and spinning him around. Naked, with his hands chained over his head, there was nothing Dave could do to hide his aching erection. The girls and their mistress tittered at the sight.

“Not much of a punfishment now, was it?” the Condesce said. Dave squirmed, but Karkat’s hands on his shoulders held him firmly in place. Roxy’s smile took on a hungry edge as she approached, her eyes raking over Dave’s bound form. She paused, standing in front of him, her hands on her hips. She locked eyes with him, gave him a sultry wink. She sank to her knees, and Dave moaned aloud. The sound was muffled by the gag, but Roxy heard it loud and clear. Her smile widened.

Roxy shooed Karkat away. His job was done, and he slunk over to the pile. The Empress dragged him down onto her lap, and he curled up against her without hesitation. As if jealous, Jane climbed up onto her opposite thigh and made herself quite comfortable, her cheek nuzzled against her mistress’s cleavage. Dave wasn’t paying attention to any of this, because Roxy had a hand around his cock and was teasing him with slow, deft strokes.

“It’s been a minute since I got my hands on one of these bad boys,” she said, giving Dave’s dick a squeeze. “But dontchu worry, you’re in good hands.”

Dave made a strangled sound, although that had less to do with the pun than the sloppy kiss Roxy pressed to the head. More kisses were soon to follow, trailing down his length until she reached the base. She took his balls into one hand, while the other continued to jerk Dave off, too slow and too light to work him up the way he needed. It wasn’t long before he was rocking his hips forward, making frantic noises behind his gag. Roxy’s lips quirked upward mid-kiss, and to Dave’s dismay she pulled away long enough to say, “Hold your horses, sweet thing, I’m just getting started.”

At that point, Roxy wrapped her lips around the tip of Dave’s cock, then began to swallow him down. Dave didn’t stand a chance. Although more accustomed to tentadicks, Roxy took him to the hilt with expert efficiency. He was smaller than her mistress, and not as squirmy, although the rest of him was doing plenty of squirming. Her eyes were fixed on his pretty face as she worked, admiring the way his eyelids fluttered, the lovely flush in his lips and cheeks. She’d been asking for a cute boy for a long while, and the Condesce had went and nabbed the cutest of the bunch, especially when he dropped the poker face and started making pretty, wanting noises into his gag. And with Roxy leaving black lipstick smears up and down his cock, he was making plenty of noise.

Behind them, the Empress had unzipped her bodysuit. Karkat, ever so eager to please, sucked on one breast while his hot, clever fingers worked on the other. Jane straddled her mistress’s lap, pulling aside her flimsy panties and slipping down onto one of the many slick pink tendrils that writhed between her legs. The three of them moved in tandem with ease that came from familiarity. Jane was the first to cry out as another tendril latched a sucker onto her clit. Dave, startled, looked up to see Jane falling out of her dress, split open by her mistress’s bulge and writhing as she chased her peak.

Roxy had barely gotten started, but Dave found that the heat in him was building at a truly embarrassing rate. His hips jerked in clumsy motions until Roxy grabbed him and held him still. Her eyes glittered with amusement, as if she knew just what kind of predicament he was in. Then she swallowed around him, the muscles of her throat massaging him, and Dave came with a strangled cry. He was left panting and oversensitive in the aftermath, whimpering as Roxy pulled off and licked a trickle of his cum from her lower lip.

Roxy grinned, patting Dave’s toned stomach affectionately. “I like you,” she said. “We can always use another buoytoy, especially one as cute as you.”

Dave thought of Dirk, and sorrow sent him crashing down from his high. Roxy didn’t seem to notice. Without leaving her knees, she flipped up her skirt and cocked her hips. “Speaking of buoytoys,” she said with a grin. “Karkat! Bring that tentadick over here.”

Karkat rolled his eyes, but obeyed without much fuss. He knelt behind Roxy and slid his pants down, revealing that he was already unsheathed. Roxy wasted no time grinding her pussy against him, driving a chittering growl out of him. Karkat gripped her hips and pressed into her, making Roxy sigh with pleasure. With a show like that, it was no surprise when Dave’s dick began to stir a second time. Roxy took care of that, wrapping a hand around him and stroking deftly. This time, when he finished, Roxy aimed him at her mouth and opened wide, so that his cum spattered over her face. The expression he made must have been better than troll Viagra, because Karkat’s eyes rolled back and he painted Roxy’s ass and thighs cherry red. So Dave hadn’t been imagining that color, the same color of human blood. Maybe some other time, he might even bring himself to care. For now, he slumped in his bonds, his body shaking with exertion and exhaustion.

 

He wasn’t untied until the rest of the harem was well and truly sated. When they were finally finished, Karkat reached up to unfasten Dave’s chains from the pole. Dave stumbled, but Karkat caught him before he could fall, although Dave maintained that he would have found his footing without the help.

“Can I keep him in my block, Mistress?” Roxy said, her voice slurred in the afterglow. She lounged on the cushions at Dave’s feet, her clothes disheveled, her lower half exposed, her thighs covered in Karkat’s slurry. Jane rolled her eyes as she fastened her dress back in place (although her undergarments couldn’t be saved). Roxy rose up on her elbows. “Oh, Janey, we can share him if you really want!”

“No, it’s not that,” Jane said. “He’s completely untrained, and you want him in your bed?”

“I’ll just keep him tied up, no big,” Roxy said. “Right, Mistress? Look at him, he’s harmless.” Dave looked harmless at the moment, bound up and slumped over in Karkat’s arms. But he was still one of the most deadly slaves that had ever lived, and his playmates would do well to remember that.

Then again, would he really hurt Roxy? No, he realized. She hadn’t done anything to him, except give him some truly wicked orgasms. He never really wanted to hurt anyone, not his fellow slaves, not his opponents in the ring. But he would fight for his life, and he would fight to get back to his brother, even if that meant taking on Her Imperious Condescension, a fight he would almost certainly lose.

 

Dave didn’t fight as Karkat led him a short distance to the ablution block. Karkat took off his gag, then began to fasten his handcuffs to the shower head. Then Dave began to argue. “Dude, come on,” he said. “I’m not gonna fly off the handle over a goddamn shower, let me go.”

Karkat ignored him, clipping the cuffs to a hook on the shower head that was probably there for this exact purpose. Dave hissed in annoyance and began to yank on his bonds, but they held fast. His wrists were starting to chafe, and would probably bruise something awful, but that wasn’t about to stop him.

“Settle down,” Karkat snapped. “You’re not gonna get any small freedoms until you prove that you can chill the fuck out.”

“Fuck you,” Dave said, still struggling until his wrists reddened and bruised. “I’m the king of chill. I invented chill. Chill is my bitch. I—”

Karkat grabbed his ass, dug his claws in. Dave yelped, then quickly bit his lip to stifle any similar sounds. Karkat grinned at him, all crooked teeth and shit-eating smugness. Dave wondered if it was worth it to kick the shit out of him. His legs were still free, after all. But that seemed to be in poor taste. All Karkat had done to him was be kind of an asshole; the whipping was under the Empress’s orders, and it wasn’t the pain of it that had made Dave fall apart. Karkat didn’t deserve to get his ass kicked, not yet. Besides, beating the shit out of one of her prized pets was sure to bring down the Condesce’s wrath like the hand of god.

Instead of kicking Karkat’s ass, Dave stared sullenly at the shower wall. Considering the matter settled, Karkat stripped out of his clothes and stepped in behind him. The water was turned on, and washed over Dave; he closed his eyes, letting the hot water ease some of the soreness out of his muscles. It had been a long night. He was tired and stressed and didn’t believe he would feel better until he was reunited with his brother. He was careful not to think about how that would surely never happen.

Karkat lathered up his hands with some sweet, floral-scented soap. Dave’s eyes flew open as those hands smoothed over his back. Karkat’s hands were hot and callused and surprisingly strong, for a pet’s. His palms dug into Dave’s shoulders, rubbing some of the tension out of them.

“I can wash myself,” Dave said.

“Would you shut up and appreciate how I’m trying to be nice?” said Karkat. His voice was almost uncomfortably loud that close to Dave’s ears. It was almost endearing, or it would have been if Dave was in a better mood.

Despite Dave’s best efforts, it was hard not to enjoy himself. Karkat had to have been trained, or at least well-practiced. He found the knots and sore spots in Dave’s back and shoulders with clever efficiency, all while avoiding the red marks that remained on Dave’s skin. Dave found himself breathing slow and deep as some of his stress and worry was worked out of him. Karkat couldn’t fix everything, not with just a massage, but for a moment, Dave felt just a little bit better.

Karkat dug his palms in on either side of Dave’s spine and slid downward, driving a long, slow sigh out of him. Then Karkat slid his hands up Dave’s arms, gently rubbing him down. “If I untie your hands, are you going to hold still?” Dave nodded slowly, and Karkat reached up to undo the latch holding his cuffs in place. They were quickly stowed away in Karkat’s sylladex; meanwhile, he held Dave’s hands, making disapproving sounds at the red and swollen skin of his wrists.

“You shouldn’t have struggled,” Karkat said. “You’re not gonna get anywhere by fighting back. She’s a good mistress, you know. She’ll be good to you, if you let her.”

Dave didn’t answer, and Karkat didn’t really expect him to. He took Dave’s hands and lowered them to his sides; this time, Dave didn’t fight.

Karkat washed Dave gently and thoroughly, and Dave let him. When they were done, Karkat cleaned and bandaged Dave’s wrists, then cuffed him again. Something told him Karkat wasn’t supposed to untie him in the first place. Just this once, Dave would keep his mouth shut. He kept his mouth shut as Karkat led him back through the harem to a small but comfortable room, furnished for a human rather than a troll. Roxy’s, he guessed. Karkat pushed him down onto the bed, and well, there were worse things than spending the day with a pretty girl. Dave obeyed, and Karkat attached his cuffs to the headboard. Karkat hesitated, then ruffled his hair. Dave arched an eyebrow at him, and Karkat snatched his hand away as if he had been burned. “Anyways,” he said in that too-loud voice that Dave was starting to realize was the norm for him. “Sleep well, you thickheaded little shit.”

“Thanks,” Dave said dryly. Karkat rolled his eyes as he left, leaving Dave in the dark.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was glad when Roxy arrived. She grinned brightly at the sight of Dave, left like a present for her on her bed. “For me?” she said. “Karkat really knows how to treat a lady.”

Dave’s face reddened, but his voice remained steady as he said, “Yeah, he’s a real Casanova, but let’s not forget who the real ladies’ man is.”

Roxy giggled, even though it hadn’t been that funny, and climbed into bed beside Dave. His back was sore, but he didn’t mind feeling her pressing up behind him, her face nuzzled against his nape and her arm draped around his waist. Dave still missed Dirk like an open wound, but he was glad he wasn’t alone. He closed his eyes and didn’t expect to sleep.


	2. Walking Around With An Open Wound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dirk turned up his music loud enough to drown out his thoughts and hit the gym. If he tired himself out he might be able to sleep rather than lie awake worrying about his brother. What if he was injured? What if he was stolen? What if he was scared and alone with no one to look out for him? The thoughts were a mantra pounding on the inside of Dirk’s skull, and although he could quiet them, he could not silence them completely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains slavery, dub-con, and Stockholm Syndrome but no incest.

It was evening, and Dave hadn’t returned. It did not take much to upset Dirk, but he pushed down the growing feeling of alarm for the moment. They were in a lull between fights, during which the two of them would be expected to work out and train, maintaining their peak condition without wearing themselves out. They were moneymakers, not playthings to their master, and so he generally ignored them, giving them a bit of freedom in the time between fights. Still, they always had to be on guard against surprise strifes, brutal fights in which their master tested their readiness for the next bout. He always won, but if they performed to his satisfaction he would refrain from hurting them badly enough to hinder them in the ring.

Dirk turned up his music loud enough to drown out his thoughts and hit the gym. If he tired himself out he might be able to sleep rather than lie awake worrying about his brother. What if he was injured? What if he was stolen? What if he was scared and alone with no one to look out for him? The thoughts were a mantra pounding on the inside of Dirk’s skull, and although he could quiet them, he could not silence them completely.

Hours later, Dirk was sweaty and sore, and Dave was still nowhere to be found. It was time to take drastic measures. Dirk sought out his master. The elusive bastard was a pain in the ass to track down, but Dirk was nothing if not persistent. He made his way through the winding halls of the palace, searching every room until he found his master bent over a sewing machine. Dirk waited, still and silent, for the hum of the machine to stop, wary of the brutal punishment he’d earn if he made the seadweller mess up a stitch. Finally, there was silence, and Dirk spoke up.

“Why isn’t Dave back?”

Dirk's master plucked a pin from between his teeth, sticking it into the cushion at his side. For a long, aggravating moment, Dirk was concerned that he’d ignore him and continue with his work. Finally, he said, “That’s because I sold him.”

“You what?” Dirk hadn’t raised his voice in sweeps, and never to his master. The seadweller’s gaze hardened. He stood, drew his hand back, struck Dirk across the side of his face. Dirk didn’t try to dodge. He knew he had deserved it. The pain was a welcome distraction, even, from the panic and dread that was making his heart twist in his chest. He took a deep breath and quieted himself, speaking through gritted teeth. “Why the fuck did you sell him?”

“The Empress wanted him,” his master said, slow and acidic, as if it was so obvious that Dirk was an idiot for not guessing it already. “Would you say no to her?”

Dirk’s veins were filled with ice, but he knew the answer. It wasn’t his master’s fault, but that was hardly a comfort. His hands were shaking; he clasped them before him in a white-knuckled grip. His master turned away, sitting back down. Dirk thought the conversation was over, and was surprised when the seadweller spoke up again. “I’m selling you too,” he said.

Dirk wasn’t surprised. It was the logical thing to do. Dirk would be useless in the ring without Dave. It made sense that his master would sell him at the height of his fame, rather than watch a valuable slave die uselessly. Dirk wasn’t thinking about that, not really; he was thinking about how he hadn’t been allowed to say goodbye.

The conversation was over. Neither Dirk nor his master had anything else to say. Dirk knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to yell and scream that it wasn’t fair, that the Empress was a nasty grubfucking bitch, that his master should have at least warned him. He could say none of those things, however, certainly not out loud, not unless he wanted to earn the beating of a lifetime. He found that he didn’t care nearly as much about that, however, not without Dave with him.

On the night of the auction, Dirk was dressed up once more and brought to another highblood’s palace. His one consolation was that he knew just how much his master hated events like these. He and the other slaves were lined up at the front of the room, some bound, some barely-clothed, all on display for the crowd of highbloods mingling with each other and crooning over the merchandise. Dirk’s shades hid the fury in his eyes, turning his glare into something cold and aloof. His fame drew in several potential buyers, but between his attitude and his scar, the bids were lower than what his master would have liked.

“I heard Her Imperious Condescension bought the prettier one,” said one highblood.

“I don’t need a wild pet, what if he attacks my other slaves?” said another.

Dirk ignored them, wishing that they could feel the full force of his disdain. And yet he remained still and quiet, not talking back, not trying to flee. There was no point. He’d never get far. He’d never see Dave again.

There was one troll that kept coming back, enough that Dirk was shaken out of his dour contemplations and began to pay attention. He must have been old, larger even than Dirk’s master and with a few lines showing on his face. More striking were the scars marring half his face, leaving him blind in one eye. Dirk had a guess as to who he was even before seeing his sign. Every creature in the Empire knew the sign of the Orphaner.

Dirk knew his title, although he hadn’t expected it to be quite so on-the-nose. Over and over again Dualscar wandered by, looking over him appraisingly, sometimes even reaching out to touch him. Dualscar cupped Dirk’s chin in one hand, tilted his head from side to side, ran an admiring hand down his chest. Dirk was stiff but unresisting. He was long past caring who bought him next. He was long past caring about anything at all.

It was the sort of irony that would make Dirk want to tear his hair out if he knew of it. His scar was what kept him from being bought alongside his brother. Now, it was what had first caught the Orphaner’s attention. Of course, Dirk had plenty of other good features. He was lovely to look at, providing one was not put off by his disfigurement. He was a famed gladiator, and would earn his master some additional prestige. His own brother was one of the Condesce’s harem. In Dualscar’s opinion, it should be a crime to buy Dirk Strider at such a low price. That wouldn’t stop him, of course. After a brief discussion with the human’s master and a few taps on his tablet, the Orphaner had a new pet.

Dirk’s expression was mutinous as his collar was switched out for one bearing the Orphaner’s sign. Dualscar had brought one for just this reason, knowing very well that he intended to take a new slave home. The collar was made of soft black lace with a violet stone at the center, engraved with the Aquarius sign. It suited Dirk, he though, although it would be some time before Dirk agreed.

Dualscar knew a few things about his new pet already. He was relatively untrained, he had a mind like a steel trap, he was a terror with a blade. The former, Dualscar could turn to his advantage; Dirk might be difficult to train, but once his loyalty was earned, he would be useful as well as obedient. Dualscar might even allow Dirk a weapon, if he earned it. A human as a bodyguard would be entertaining, if impractical; no troll ever expected a fight from something so small.

But Dualscar was getting ahead of himself. He had only owned Dirk for a few seconds, and there was a long way to go before he had the loyal companion of his dreams. Eventually, he knew he would have Dirk wrapped around his little finger, but every project had to start somewhere. With a practiced smile, he slipped Dirk’s shades up onto his forehead, the last barrier between him and his new master’s scrutiny. Dualscar wanted to see his pet’s eyes, and he was not disappointed. They were a beautiful, fiery gold, alive with intelligence and spirit. Dualscar couldn’t wait to bend that quick wit and strong will to his service.

“Look at you,” he purred. Dirk’s eyes flicked to the side, embarrassed or uncomfortable Dualscar couldn’t yet tell. “What a treasure. We’re going to have such fun, you and I.”

Dirk’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he didn’t argue. In fact, he didn’t speak at all on the long flight back to Alternia. The Orphaner and his assistants were among the few adult trolls that remained on the Empire’s home planet. They were allowed this privilege because of the gravity of their duty and because they were among the Empress’s most trusted servants. The Orphaner was known for being steadfast in his loyalty to the Condesce and, more importantly, her horrific lusus. Dirk had never been to Alternia, and in another situation he might be curious, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The shuttle broke through the clouds, and through the windows was a view of Alternia’s landscape, stretching out in a kaleidescope of colors below them. The purple-gray waters of the ocean roiled and churned, washing against a rocky shore. Rising up out of that shore was a shining palace, the home of the Orphaner when he wasn’t on active duty. Dirk was willing to bet that the interior was far more lavish than anything he had ever experienced, even as the pet of a seadweller. After all, Dualscar was second only to the Empress in rank and prestige, and it was only fitting that his palace would reflect that. The glittering spires loomed overhead as the shuttle slowed, then came to a halt.

“Welcome home,” Dualscar said. His fake smile was believable enough that Dirk could be fooled if he decided he wanted to be, but he wasn’t in the mood for it now. Despair more than any training kept him docile as Dualscar wrapped the leash around his hand and led Dirk out of the shuttle.

The air was thick with the scent of salt, and Dirk could barely hear himself think over the roar of the waves crashing against the cliffs. A pair of heavily-armed bluebloods on either side of the wrought-iron gate dipped their heads to Dualscar respectfully as he passed, the gate opening up before him. Dirk was led through the palace, his shoes clicking against the marble floors. He had to walk swiftly to keep up with Dualscar’s much longer stride, and a lesser human would have quickly run out of breath. Even Dirk was relieved when they reached the elevator that would carry them up to the tower where the Orphaner resided.

“I have two other pets at the moment,” Dualscar said. “They’re such darlings. I know you’ll get along wonderfully.”

The last thing Dirk wanted to do was socialize, but he didn’t say this out loud. He let his clenched jaw and hunched shoulders speak for him. At least he still had his shades, although something told him that wouldn’t last long, either.

The Orphaner’s suite was large and grand, with high ceilings and tall windows overlooking the sea. Even Dirk had to admit that the view was magnificent, a balm to his ragged nerves, but it wasn’t nearly enough to improve his dour mood. Dualscar’s hand was large and cold on his back, making sure he stayed on edge. “I want you to make yourself at home,” Dualscar said. “You’ll have your own room as soon as I know you can be trusted. I do like my pets to be comfortable with me.”

Dirk didn’t respond. He hoped that his continued silence was beginning to become vexing, but Dualscar seemed annoyingly unperturbed.

The pad of bare feet caught Dirk’s attention, and he turned to see another human, a woman about his age. She was small and curvy, with fair hair and dark skin. She regarded Dirk with a kind of cold and intense disinterest that he was used to giving rather than receiving. Her expression was disapproving, and Dirk didn’t know whether to be offended or to empathize with her. Her cool glare turned to Dualscar, and Dirk settled on the latter.

“You picked a male,” she said. Dualscar’s grasp tightened on Dirk’s shoulders, drawing him close.

“I did,” Dualscar said. “Not all of us can be quite as exclusive with our affections as you, dear heart. And remember, he is mine, not yours.”

“You might have brought home a pet that we could all enjoy,” the lady said with a sigh. “But if he keeps your attention long enough that I might have a moment’s peace, I suppose he’ll do. However, if he makes any flushed overtures I reserve the right to hurl him into the sea.”

Dirk liked her. He held out his hand in greeting. “Dirk Strider,” he said, the first words he’d said all night.

“So he does speak!” Dualscar said, feigning surprise.

The lady pet clasped Dirk’s hand. “Rose,” she said. “Goodness knows we’ll be seeing more of each other than either of us can stand, so let’s make this relationship an amiable one, shall we?”

Dirk’s new master finally released him, saying, “Rose, be a dear and show him around. He’s a feisty one, but I’m sure you can handle him.”

Dirk was beginning to suspect that the Orphaner had a type. More data was needed to come to a conclusive decision, but Rose's pointed manner of speaking and the not-quite-smirk on her lips were compelling arguments.

Dirk was treated to more of Rose’s quick-witted commentary as she led him throughout the suite. As expected, it was far grander than anything he had experienced. It didn’t feel like home. Only a splinter of his consciousness was dedicated to listening to Rose; the rest of his mind was on Dave. Was he harmed? Was he scared? Was he fighting back? Dirk hoped that the answer to all of those was no, but his lack of knowledge ate at him.

Belatedly, he realized that Rose was standing still, regarding him with an icy stare. “You’re not listening,” she said, and it took Dirk several seconds for him to process it.

“That’s correct,” he finally said. “In fact, I suspect I haven’t been listening for a good long while.”

Rose took a moment to inwardly debate whether she was annoyed, or whether she cared at all. She quickly decided that the answer was ‘not really.’ “In that case, I suggest you retire. Go entertain our master, if you must. I do have better things to do than hold your hand.”

Dirk didn’t doubt her, but something in his expression must have betrayed his distaste. “Look,” Rose said. “You won’t be given free reign of the suite until Master trusts you not to do anything excessively stupid. The quickest way to convince him of that is to play nice. Say please and thank you. Suck his bulge. He really is quite easy to please. If you can’t enjoy it, pretend, and he’ll be satisfied.”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Dirk said, and although his tone was dry, he meant it sincerely. He suspected that Rose knew as much.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she said, and then she slipped into one of the smaller rooms at the edge of the suite.

Dirk paused for an agonizing moment, inexplicably exhausted. He was alone for the first time all night, and he seized on the opportunity to let the pain and sorrow of his situation sink in. He missed Dave like one of his limbs had been lopped off, if that limb had been funny and charming and his dearest friend. Dirk let grief weigh on him like heavy chains wrapped around his lungs. He stopped just short of letting himself cry.

Dualscar wouldn’t wait for him forever. Dirk obediently made his way to the master bedroom. At first, he thought his master had left. Then he heard the shift of water, a low sigh behind a decorated paper screen. Without waiting for an invitation, Dirk peered around behind it, and sure enough. Dualscar’s clothes were hanging on a line of hooks on the wall. The troll himself was in a huge bath carved out of the floor. Naked, of course, but Dirk could barely see past the bubbles and bath salts clouding the water and filling the air with a fragrant perfume. Dualscar turned toward him, eyes hooded and fins flushed violet with pleasure.

“How kind of you to join me,” he said. Then, reaching out with a long black arm, he beckoned Dirk closer. What the hell, Dirk thought. The illusion of choice was just that, an illusion. And besides, there were worse things than a hot bath with a handsome gentleman.

Dirk loosed his tie, began to unbutton his jacket. Dualscar growled, low and pleased, and it was such a contrast with his previous master that Dirk was taken aback. Dirk had never felt like his old master truly wanted him, but the Orphaner looked at him like he was a fine treat to be savored. Dirk felt hot in a way that the steam off the bath couldn’t completely account for.

A better slave would have made a show of it, given his master a proper strip tease. Dirk was not that slave. He was quick and methodical, hanging up his suit jacket, folding his shirt and trousers and setting them aside. That didn’t stop Dualscar from shamelessly admiring the view; Dirk’s toned chest, his plush ass, the scars lining his slender body. Rose was right, Dirk realized. Their master was easy to please.

“So,” Dirk said. “Do you want me to bend over the side of the bath before or after I wash my hair? Or can I offer you an underwater blow job? I’ve never done one of those before, but I hear they’re all the rage with seadwellers. But let’s be honest, I’m a lot more useful and/or competent if you want someone killed. Do you want someone killed? I bet I could take anyone green or lower. Except psionics, because fuck that noise.”

Dualscar rested his chin on one hand and grinned, the adoring and condescending smile of one watching a barkbeast chase its tail. “I’ll allow you to wash yourself before you bend over for me, although you might need another rinse-off after. But you can put thoughts of bein’ Alternia’s smallest assassin out a’ your mind. I didn’t buy you to be a bloodletter.”

“That’s up to you, Master,” Dirk said, feigning politeness. “If you want a shitty, shitty sex slave as opposed to a pretty kickass gladiator, that’s your prerogative.”

Dualscar’s smile took on an edge that Dirk did not like. “Without that moirail of yours? I’ve seen you two fight, and I do believe you’re overestimatin’ your capabilities.”

Dirk fell silent. What could he say to that? Alone, he was still one of the most dangerous humans that had ever lived, but he was nothing compared to the likes of the troll before him. Alone, he might as well have been just another pet, one who had been maimed, at that. Dirk fell back into a foul mood, obedient, but sullen.

Dualscar gestured for him to come closer, and Dirk stepped into the bath. It was not as hot as he liked, in order to accommodate his coldblooded master, just enough to bother him. He sighed in lieu of any complaint, and lowered himself fully into the water.

The tub was designed for a troll, and was therefore large enough that Dirk could use it as a swimming pool. It was enough that he had to kneel on the bench to keep his head above water. Taking note of this, Dualscar placed a hand on either side of Dirk’s waist and lifted him up, setting the little human on his lap. Dirk reminded himself that the water made him easy to lift. He also knew, deep down, that Dualscar could lift him effortlessly without the assistance. He sat up straight, his back an iron rod, his hands clasped demurely in his lap. He made no move to make himself comfortable.

“Nothing’s easy for you, is it?” Dualscar said. His hand rubbed up and down Dirk’s back in a way that felt objectively good, but that Dirk would not allow himself to enjoy. “So used to havin’ to fight, you won’t let yourself have anythin’ without one. What a shame.” Dualscar slipped his arms around Dirk’s waist, drawing him in close. Dirk found himself settled against the seadweller’s broad chest, his head tucked under Dualscar’s chin. “Just know that I’ll break you in as easy as you’ll let me.”

Dirk didn’t doubt that his master meant it, but he wasn’t in the business of letting things be easy. If Dualscar wanted to break him, to pick apart the tangled web of his thoughts and bend them to his will, he’d have to work for it.

No one was surprised when Dualscar coaxed Dirk to bend over the side of the bath. Dirk was stiff, but unresisting. If Dualscar made this worthwhile, it might take his mind off his grief, at least for a short time. If not, Dirk would have the spiteful pleasure of remaining entirely unruffled while his master came undone. Dirk was a bit more surprised, however, when the first thing he felt was not a bulge splitting him open, but cool lips pressed against the nape of his neck. He shivered before he could stop himself, and felt Dualscar’s lips quirk into a smile.

One of Dualscar’s hands smoothed over Dirk’s shoulder, holding him in place. The other clasped his hand, twined their fingers together. Dualscar pressed a trail of kisses down Dirk’s spine, leaving him stiff and unsure, wondering when the seadweller would get on with it. He would be waiting a long time, which he realized as Dualscar’s hand slid downward, giving his ass a squeeze along the way, and wound up between his thighs, touching everything but his dick. Dirk hissed in frustration as devilish fingers rubbed teasing circles on his inner thigh. It took an astounding amount of self-control to keep from squirming.

“You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you know,” Dualscar said. “I believe you will, one way or another. Why not just relax? I take such good care of my treasures.”

Why not just relax? Dirk didn’t have a logical answer, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise. Most humans were tame housepets, but not Dirk Strider. No, he was better than that, and if Dualscar wanted to drag him into that he would go kicking and screaming. More importantly, he missed Dave like his heart had been surgically removed and was now walking around somewhere he couldn’t see or protect it. Even though it wasn’t Dualscar’s fault, it was easy to resent him for it, and Dirk planned to do just that. Bitterness and pride were a nasty combination, one that Dirk meant to hold onto and nurture for a very long time.

Even still, he couldn’t bring himself to fight back, nor did he really want to. He wasn’t facing down an opponent in the ring, but the vast power of the Alternian Empire and his lowly place within it. It was a fight he could never win, certainly not alone, and deep down, he knew that. There was a small, scared part of him that wanted to enjoy this, wanted to latch onto any sort of superficial pleasure and cherish it. If he was a little less proud, he might have done just that. If Dualscar had his way, he might do that anyway.

Dualscar palmed at his cock, and Dirk bit back a groan. The seadweller’s touch was deliberate and surprisingly deft. Either Rose had a dick that he was well-acquainted with, or Dualscar had practiced on human whores before bringing home his very own dick-equipped pet. A few seconds of his expert attention had Dirk going rigid as he struggled to keep from squirming. Dualscar’s chuckle was low enough to be felt rather than heard. “Thickheaded little shit,” he said, with no malice in his voice. “I like you.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Dirk said, and Dualscar laughed. The Orphaner’s brand of condescension was a very different variety from Dirk’s previous master’s, not as acidic. Dualscar treated him like a favorite toy, a treasure to be cherished. The feeling was alien, and it grated against Dirk in a way that he was sure was entirely his fault. He knew, deep down, that if he wasn’t so recalcitrant he’d be happier, with a kind master to take care of him. And Dualscar did seem kind, at least on a superficial level. Would it be so wrong to let himself enjoy it?

Yes, screamed a thousand stubborn voices in Dirk’s head. He didn’t know whether to be proud or frustrated with himself. There was a part of him that couldn’t wait for Dualscar to break down the last of his resistance.

A long, tapered tendril prodded at Dirk’s entrance, and this, at least, he could enjoy. He let his head rest against his crossed arms, concealing a sigh. The tapered tip slid in without much trouble. Dirk was shaking with the effort it took to hold still. As Dualscar’s bulge widened, it met with some resistance. Dualscar’s hand on Dirk’s cock helped him relax, opening him up that much more. Soon, the thick bulge was curling against Dirk’s prostate, and Dirk clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a moan.

That was the edge of Dualscar’s patience, it seemed. He wrapped his hands around Dirk’s wrists, gentle but firm, and pinned them to the side of the bath. His bulge slipped deeper, fucking Dirk open, the ridges teasing over his sweet spot with enough regularity that it had to be deliberate. Dirk bit down hard on his lower lip, but Dualscar leaned around to kiss him, coaxing his mouth open, kissing the bruise he had left. If they kept going, Dirk was not going to be able to control himself, and that scared him as much as anything.

“Sir,” he said, not sure what he was asking for. To stop? To let him gather his thoughts? To fuck his stress and worry away until he could barely remember his own name? Dualscar didn’t let him clarify, silencing him with another kiss, and Dirk was glad for it.

When Dualscar let go of one of Dirk’s hands, he didn’t move. When Dualscar wrapped a hand around his cock, he did, rocking his hips forward between the thick bulge spreading him open and the clever hand stoking the fire in his abdomen. Dualscar purred his approval, and Dirk felt like he had done something worthwhile. It was easy to slip into a sexed-up haze, thinking of nothing but the way his master felt inside him and wrapped around him, and it felt so much better than the manic rush of Dirk’s busy mind. It wasn’t a day spent with his head pillowed on Dave’s shoulder, a callused hand playing with his hair, but then again, nothing could top that. This was fine in its own way. Peaceful. Dirk didn’t hate himself for enjoying it.

Pressed against his chest, Dirk felt his master’s breath go ragged. His own heartbeat sped up to match, spurred on as Dualscar’s bulge began to thrash inside of him. As hard as Dirk tried to remain quiet, every other exhale soon became a breathy moan. The sounds Dualscar made were almost too low to hear, but Dirk could feel them, vibrating deep in his bones. He was wrapped up in the sound, the warmth of the water and the cool of his master’s touch, and with a deep breath he let himself fall.

Dualscar’s orgasm came in time with Dirk’s. With his last few functioning brain cells, Dirk suspected that that, too, was by design. He was almost touched by the gesture, but he was far more preoccupied by the way his body shook, quaking in time with the lash of his master’s bulge against his sweet spot. His jaw clenched against the urge to moan aloud, but he couldn’t keep from gasping for breath. Dualscar seemed satisfied by that, trailing kisses from Dirk’s jaw to his mouth as the two of them came down from a shared high.

Dirk realized that his hands remained where Dualscar had put them, clenched into fists and unwilling to move. He relaxed his hands, spreading out his fingers and sliding them back to grip the edge of the bath. He felt boneless, the tension eased out of him in a manner that was almost alien. A stubborn core of anxiety remained, lodged in his head and his chest, but Dirk imagined Dualscar could remove that too, if he let him.

Dirk turned his head without thinking, meeting his master’s lips in a kiss. Dualscar crooned his pleasure, even as his fins fluttered with surprise. He wrapped an arm around Dirk, holding him securely, a broad hand gently rubbing up and down his chest.

The kiss broke, and for a brief, blessed moment, Dirk’s expression was smooth and soft in the absence of worry. It only took a second, however, for a characteristic frown to affix itself on his face. Disappointing, but not entirely surprising. More importantly, it was something that could be corrected.

Dualscar released his pet, sinking down onto the bench with a sigh. The purple and white in the water was quickly filtered out, leaving the bath clear as the bubbles began to disappear. This allowed Dualscar to admire Dirk’s body as he eased along the bench to where all manner of fancy soaps were lined up along the side of the bath. Dirk helped himself to his master’s most expensive cosmetics while Dualscar relaxed, letting the warm water accentuate the satisfaction of a night well-spent.

Dirk might have been difficult to please, but the fact that his master was willing to indulge his luxurious ablutions was a definite plus. It didn’t hurt that his bulge felt amazing. Not to mention being a hive pet was far safer and more comfortable than fighting for his life in the ring, and Dualscar didn’t seem the type to ambush his pets with surprise strifes. If not for one crucial detail, Dirk might even have been happy here.

Although Dirk prided himself on being a closed book, in this area, he was astoundingly easy to read. Dualscar decided that now was as good a time as any to ready a trap that he had been preparing since he first laid eyes on Dirk. “Her Condescension is hosting a gala at the end of the dark season,” he said. “I know you haven’t been taught courtly manners, but you seem a clever boy. If you can learn by then, you may accompany me.”

He didn’t need to say what Dirk was most interested in, that the Empress’s harem would be there as well. That Dave would be there as well. Dirk went still, his hands pausing in the middle of scrubbing conditioner into his hair. He knew that this was too good to be true, that Dualscar wanted something, and Dualscar knew that he knew. But Dualscar also knew that this was Dirk’s greatest and most obvious weakness. He would not be able to resist.

In a true battle of wits, Dirk would be a formidable opponent. It might take sweeps to truly break him the way Dualscar wanted him. Because of course that was what Dualscar wanted; that brilliant mind bent to his will, the full force of Dirk’s pride exerted toward increasing his master’s renown. Because of Dave, it would take no great manipulation to make Dirk submit. Dualscar always wanted his pets to give themselves over willingly, and Dirk would do so in a heartbeat if it meant seeing his brother again. It was a sticky sweet trap Dirk was falling into, but a gentle one. By the time he realized what had happened, he would be glad for it.

Dirk knew he was being manipulated, even if he didn’t have all the details. He also knew that he didn’t care. “I’m a fast learner,” he said, his voice perfectly even, with a ‘sir’ added on as an afterthought.

A smile spread across Dualscar’s face. “I know. You’ll make me proud, won’t you?” And Dirk almost wanted to.


End file.
